“Help?” I asked Alucard.
He growled, retrieving the gun quickly, not even turning his head from the road. I needed to focus on my balls—
Magical spheres.
More bullets actually pelted the back of the Tahoe this time, and Yahn let out a very feminine shriek. Alucard shook his head, angrily reaching back to shove the pistol into the sparkly Swede’s hands. “Bad guys are trying to kill us. Point this at them and shoot. It’s okay if you miss. Just distract them,” Alucard shouted, not looking back. Yahn’s hands began to shake, but I tuned him out, turning to the vampire.
“Okay, I need to throw my balls on the ground, but we need to be far away. As long as they don’t blow up, they will open a Gateway back to Chateau Falco where—”
“Nate, we’re going ninety miles an hour, dodging bullets. I can’t just stop. Can’t you, I don’t know, magically swing your sweaty balls or something?”
I shivered at the thought. “Not a good idea. They’re unstable. And slippery.”
A flash of fear shot across his face, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. He suddenly swerved again, avoiding another barrage. He hit a pothole, and the pistol in Yahn’s hand went off with a thunderous boom, blowing a fist-sized hole directly through the ceiling of our car, causing all of us to shout out in terror, especially Yahn. But his was more of an feral shriek.
“Christ! Give it to me, dancer boy!” Aria hissed, snatching the gun away from him.
Alucard took a deep breath, and spoke without looking. “There’s a slingshot in the glovebox. Will that work?”
“Why the hell do you have—” I let out a breath, shaking my head. “Never mind.” I thought about it, opening the glovebox to take a look. Dangerous, but I didn’t have any other options. I just had to be very, very careful.
I settled them into the leather strap, careful to hold it so that I didn’t put any pressure on my balls—
Magical spheres.
“Alright. You’re going to need to slow down for a second in case these blow up. Then you’re going to need to floor it. The Gateway only stays up for a few seconds. Just aim for my balls— magical spheres,” I corrected, with a weak grin.
Alucard shook his head in disbelief, but gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Do it.”
I readied the slingshot for a quick release, and darted up to poke my torso out the sunroof. Alucard let off the gas, and I released the band the moment I was steady, aiming straight ahead of us, hoping I had given us enough distance.
But Alucard floored it while I was ducking back inside to avoid any bullets, which sent me flying into the backseat, landing face-first in Yahn’s sweaty chest, taking his breath away.
“I hate sweaty balls!” Alucard shouted at the top of his lungs. Then, “Duck!”
We dove for the floor boards, trying to get as low as possible, as the sound of screaming metal and shattered glass exploded all around us.
Chapter 3
The car jerked, skidded, spun, and Alucard shouted, pumping the brakes as we all played human Twister in the backseat. I heard the crunching of gravel before the car finally struck something solid, coming to a complete and sudden stop. The vehicle wheezed and hissed, and I heard birds chirping in a cheery song. I found myself staring up at a clear blue sky.
Because the top of the car was gone. It must have been too tall for the Gateway. The back of the car, about a foot away from the backseat, was also missing. Probably a result of the Gateway snapping shut behind us, slicing through our car like a hot knife through butter.
If we had been a second slower…
Alucard let out a shout, pounding the steering wheel. “Nate’s sweaty balls save the day!”
I heard someone clear their throat outside the car beside the backseat passenger door. I looked up to see Dean frowning at me, my home looming over his shoulder.
I smiled weakly. “Dean… Is my suit ready?”
“You hit the fountain,” he replied, turning his back on us. “Your suit is hanging in the foyer. The Gala starts in twenty minutes,” he said, shaking his head as he walked back to the house.
We piled out of the car, brushing ourselves off and checking for wounds. Everyone seemed to be fine. Until I got to Yahn, who was scratching at his chest with a thoughtful frown.
“You okay?” I asked nervously.
“Yah,” his smile morphed back to his usual ray of sunshine look. “I think one of them, like, scratched me with their fan-see nails or something,” he said, shrugging dismissively. “Didn’t hurt my dancing suit, so I’m toe-tah-lee great and stuff,” he added with one last rub at his chest.
I nodded with a faint, haunted smile, slowly turning my back on him as I shot Sonya and Aria a meaningful look. Their faces were ashen.
One of them had possibly scratched Mr. Ya-ya Sunshine.
And they were shifters.
Weredragons.
Sometimes their scratches and bites could transform a human into whatever flavor of shifter they were. It wasn’t as common as with werewolves, but still.
They may have possibly just created a monster.
I could only imagine what color he would be if he became infected by the dragon gene.
Pink, silver, and purple. With glittering scales. Like a disco ball.
Then there would be nothing to save us from him. Because the Reds would become responsible for him. And Raego, the king of the dragon nation, would not be pleased with me. And Greta would finally have to kill me for harming her grandson.
I shook my head, shooting them a calming look. We had a Gala to go to.
“Can I, like, change and stuff?” Yahn asked, grinning widely.
“Yes. Powder room is down the first hallway on the right. Third door,” I said. “Just hurry.”
“Alriiight! Party time! This ees going to be toe-tah-lee awesome and stuff!”
Alucard was brushing off his clothes, already dressed for the Gala, and surprisingly, no rips, scrapes, or stains marred his suit. Although it was slightly wrinkled.
He met my eyes. “How are we going to get there in time?” he asked.
I smiled. “Shadow Walk.”
Alucard’s gaze latched onto Yahn jogging up the steps with his backpack, which was unpleasant to witness with his sparkly tights. “You’re going to scare the living hell out of him.”
I shrugged. “Worth it. Do you want to tell Tory we can’t make it?”
Alucard just sighed. “Think she’ll know what we were up to?”
“No way, man. We’re sneaky. She won’t suspect a thing.”
“Famous last words…” he said absently. Then he flashed me an overly-animated smile. “This ees going to be toe-tah-lee awesome and stuff! I’m a sparkly dragon, ya?”
I smiled lightly, shaking my head with concern, hoping that wasn’t the case.
Chapter 4
If I hear it one more time, I’m going to blow this whole Gala to ashes, Carrie-style, I thought to myself, meandering through the crowd and away from the guest that had forced me into conversation a few minutes ago. To wish me a happy upcoming birthday. Like every other guest here. Thankfully, the announcement of the keynote speaker had given me an excuse to exit. Because I was excited to hear Tory speak. And I wanted away from these bootlickers.
I was also very aware of the Reds, Alucard, and Yahn, studiously keeping as much distance as possible from them, so as not to raise suspicion of our earlier adventures. Especially Yahn, because Shadow Walking had both terrified him into silence, and then oddly compounded his excitement and cheer. He was unflappable. He had peppered me with questions until I had yelled at him to keep his voice down. But I did keep an eye on him now out of the corner of my eye. He was hard to miss with his red and yellow plaid suit, complete with bright red loafers. He waved happily at me, noticing my look. I smiled, nodded, and turned into the crowd, hoping no one else had noticed.
I still needed to share the update about our weregorilla adventures to someone here in the crowd. He wouldn’t be h
aving any more stalker problems. I hoped…
“Happy upcoming Birthday, Master Temple!” the Mayor bellowed in my ear as I stalked by.
Damnit all.
I plastered on a smile for him, and then pressed on. He nodded knowingly, understanding that I had duties as one of the hosts for this soiree. Despite us being inside Tory’s newly constructed school – that still smelled of sawdust and paint – the heavy scent of barnyard animals permeated the air like a faint body odor. Tory had decided to hire a small petting zoo, making the event kid-friendly. All the miniature animals were outside, freshly-bathed, their hair styled, and with flashy ribbons covering every square inch of their tiny bodies. Still, not many kids had shown up to the event, but the animals had been a big hit to the adults.
Which was kind of cool. It was entertaining to see respectable, serious-faced business men and women from St. Louis letting down their guard to pet a pony, even take selfies with the mangy beasts.
I moved closer to the podium, wanting to be visible as a show of support for Tory. Because this crowd was intimidating. Quite a few donors had turned out, all dressed to the nines, representing the majority of the money in St. Louis. They were all very, very liquid.
By liquid, I meant cash. These people had dough. Scrooge McDuck money.
And we had set up this event in hopes to swindle some of that money for Tory’s new school for Freaks. Well, we had obviously used our marketing hats to change the title to something less terrifying and monstrous. So, it was instead called Shift.
Transform your mind, was our marketing slogan, which was kind of clever, appealing to both the Freaks and the Regulars. An expensive graphic design company had come up with the logo, and it was pretty snazzy.
But let’s be honest. It was a school for hyper-violent shifters with almost zero control. Good thing their Principal, Tory Marlin, was a Beast Master – able to control their powers until she could teach them to control themselves.
If she could teach them to control themselves.
And their part-time Vice-Principal was a werewolf with one eye, who always appeared to be scowling. Gunnar, the Alpha werewolf of St. Louis, and my long-time childhood friend. I had strongly voiced that he should also teach the cheerleading team, but I had been voted down.
Maybe Yahn would be up for the job, I thought with a faint grin, but it quickly shifted to anxiety. I really hoped he wasn’t infected… I shook my head clear of the thought, focusing on the matter at hand. Only time would tell with Yahn. Nothing I could do about it now.
Gunnar was also their landlord, because he had bought the land where the school was located – the old Temple Industries property. I had given him a deal on it after my company had been shut down. He had also moved the kids into his apartment complex, where he and his pack of werewolves lived. We had hoped that the kids living surrounded by other shifters would make for an easier transition, and that any accidents would go unnoticed. Or at least unremarked upon.
Which brought us to the party. Gala. Charity dinner. Whatever. I was trying to raise money for them.
Because it would attract all sorts of the wrong attention if I simply wrote Tory a check. Which was also why I had sold Gunnar the land. His doggie supply business had taken off, and he was doing well financially. Werewolf-owned pet supply business, I rolled my eyes.
To be honest, I couldn’t really write her a check right now, anyway. Because I was busy getting my new company, Grimm Tech, off the ground, and I sorely needed investors as well.
Which, surprisingly, was not all that easy. Especially after I had effectively destroyed a multi-billion-dollar company here in St. Louis not too long ago. One that had been in my family for generations.
Now, I hadn’t really destroyed it. The Brothers Grimm had.
But like the true purpose of Tory’s school, that didn’t necessarily fit on the newspaper headlines, either.
Because… well, the Grimms weren’t real. At least not to the general, Regular, population.
Must be nice to go to bed with thoughts like that. Monsters don’t exist.
Rather than thoughts like, the mysterious super-secret club of wizards known as the Syndicate wants to murder you, the pompous professional club of wizards known as the Academy wants to murder you, your great-great-great ancestor wants to murder you, your fiancée wants to murder you, and really, any Freak who has ever met you wants you six feet under…
Tory cleared her throat from the podium, accepting a flute of champagne from a dark-haired, young female server holding an empty tray. I frowned, not recognizing the girl. After all, each of the servers was actually one of her students, one of the group of shifters we had saved from the Circus almost a year ago. I knew them all pretty well, because I had spent many months trying to help them. Maybe she had just changed her hair color or something. Or Tory had hired additional, more experienced help without telling me. That made sense.
The server departed, walking behind an older couple watching the podium. My frown grew when I didn’t see her appear on the other side of the couple. I should have seen her as she made her way back towards the kitchen with her empty tray. But a tinkling sound blasted from the speakers, and I spun around to see Tory holding her champagne flute much too close to the microphone, tapping it with a small spoon. She blushed a little bit, but lifted up her champagne in a toast, and then took a big sip to cover her blunder.
More of a long gulp, actually.
She frowned down at the glass for a second, blinking slowly, and then lifted her gaze to the guests. Hushing sounds spread through the room. Her dark hair seemed to shine in the light, emphasized by the contrasting large diamond earrings she wore. She smiled a little too broadly, flashing her white teeth at the crowd a little too openly. She was all of five-foot-five and, even in heels, was noticeably short and thin. No muscle or bone bulk to add to her weight. But she was chiseled, in great shape, and this was elegantly displayed by the perfectly-tailored cocktail dress she wore, with just enough cleavage to catch a wandering eye. She wore a diamond pendant necklace to cover it up, but this only served to emphasize it in a classy manner, which had the added benefit of helping her appeal to both the money-hungry women and the questionably-moral men.
Which had been my idea.
Despite appearances, little ol’ Tory was anything but fragile. She was a Beast Master – or some flavor of maybe-Fae that could control shifters and other monsters. And she was incredibly strong. As in, pick up a car with one hand, hammer you into paste, and not break a nail, strong.
The Principal of Shift.
Gunnar, scowling per usual, stood beside her. He wore a fancy, silk eye patch over one eye (which he hated), and generally looked like any Vice-Principal everywhere. Brooding. His eye locked onto me, and I could tell he knew something had happened. I don’t know how, but I kept my face blank, casually tapping my eye and nodding in approval. He turned away, jaw clenching in frustration.
You couldn’t tell by looking at him now, but he was excited, thankful, and terrified of his position. Even though he had argued that he didn’t have time for such things, he had displayed a surprising amount of support in helping set everything up. Because he was a big softie. Or maybe he just didn’t want his new residents destroying the city in a murder spree that led back to his land holdings.
It was probably a combination of a lot of things. Point was, he was taking his job seriously, even though he complained to me about it at every opportunity. Alucard stood on Tory’s other side, looking guilty as hell. Keep it together, Glampire, I thought to myself. Gunnar seemed to be sniffing him curiously, too subtle for anyone in the crowd to notice, but I saw his nostrils flaring, and werewolves had darn good sniffers. He finally relented, eye darting back to me, but I pretended not to notice.
Alucard was a secretary of some kind to Tory and Gunnar. He had asked for all sorts of cool titles, all of which had been rejected in a vote. But he was basically there to help Gunnar keep the kids in line. With force, if necessary.
“I want to thank everyone for coming this evening,” Tory began, interrupting my thoughts. I frowned, because it looked like she was swaying a little. She was either extremely nervous, or she had already sampled too many flutes of champagne. But I was pretty sure I had only seen her with the one glass. Well, before that server had given her another one. The paranoid part of me began to grow antsy, but I shook it off. Even though there were enough untrained shifters present to start an unparalleled murder spree, we also had enough Freaks here to keep everything civil.
Gunnar had hired on a dozen of his werewolves to help as security. And the Huntress – a possibly immortal assassin – was also lurking in the wings, ready for anything.
No one was going to be able to just waltz in here and fuck it all up. Because, there wasn’t any reason to. This school would help everyone. Hell, we might even get requests for new students after word spread about what was really going on. What kind of students we were really teaching. It was probably just Tory’s nerves, giving a speech in front of so many wealthy people.
Perhaps she hadn’t run into that very often as a beat cop on the streets of St. Louis.
Everything is fine, I thought to myself as Tory continued to speak.
But my eyes tracked the room, watching the two dozen servers gliding through the crowd with trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. The two-dozen servers who might – at any moment – decide that the guests all around them were the real hors d’oeuvres…
Tiny Gods: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 2